Yomiko didn't just admire Nancy; that was far too tame a word to describe an emotion that left her feeling nearly gutted in it's aftermath- a real shock of surreality and physicality twisted into one great thing that oddly resembled the nervousness of a highschool crush amped up several thousand-fold. No, from the first time their eyes met in the back of her favorite dusty VIP-only bookstore, she felt herself primally drawn to the woman; from the first time she felt Nancy's hand help her up, solid and dependable and so sincere, she practically worshipped the woman. It wasn't an uncommon thing to bond with a partner on dangerous missions, nor was it rare for Yomiko to form attatchments to the few others she met with freakish powers like she had, but she found a new level of obsession when reveling in all of Miss Makuhari's perfection. She hung onto every skillful move of her confident fighter's body; sleek, muscular, strong and talented to the point that it could make one weak with envy. Even if she tried to stop, she couldn't help herself from imagining the strong arms and how it would feel to be unashamedly embraced by them- she longed for that comfort and acceptance more than her eloquent mind could even think to put to words. She lost herself in those fancys, secretly mapping out her own ideal future in her imagination; summoning picturesque images of candle light, and hazy evenings of sipping wine, enjoying song and drink, and enjoying each other.
The closest she ever came to confessing her secrets had come when Nancy asked her whether she would have preferred the perfect love of romance novels, or an imperfect True Romance. Hypothetical reasoning aside, any romantically inclined question coming from Nancy stunned her. It had taken a great deal of time for her to gather her wits, and reply that she would want a True Romance, because even if there were hard times, she could still be the one living it out. She still wonders if Nancy interpreted that as she had intended it to be; the nearest thing to a proposal that the meek bookworm would ever bring to voice.
She couldn't forget it, even now when her primary thoughts were supposed to be of teaching, and getting her substitute students to recognize her, let alone listen, was a soul-sucking task in itself.
Her knuckle turned white for a moment as she gripped the chalk, when her eyes lit up in the most simple and yet wonderful of revelations. She smiled and exhaled with confidence, stepping just out of the way of a projectile paper wad and marked the kanji on the blackboard.
"I'm Yomiko Readman, and I'll be your substitute teacher," She said, deepening her squirrelly voice just enough to hint at an imitation of Nancy's, "Does anybody have any objections to that?" She smirked almost threateningly, and placed a hand on her hip, tossing her bangs to the side in her best tribute to a lost love that she could make.
If Nancy was strong, then she could be strong too. That was True Romance.